


A Compromising Engagement

by MillieMay



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, The one nobody asked for, fake marriage au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillieMay/pseuds/MillieMay
Summary: “I am withdrawing all assets until you can prove to me that the Holmes name will be a successful lineage. I do not want you to wake one day with the realization that you are the only Holmes remaining.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a hot minute but I have returned. Moved into my first apartment, started junior year of college, and am currently looking for a new job. Anyways I asked Em what I should write so here’s the fake marriage AU nobody asked for.

Unbelievable, that’s the only world that could possibly cross Sherlock’s mind as he paces back and forth in the Brownstone. He’d thought his father mad before but he’s crossed a whole new plane on this act.

“I am withdrawing all assets until you can prove to me that the Holmes name will be a successful lineage. I do not want you to wake one day with the realization that you are the only Holmes remaining.”

The call left a sour taste in his mouth that nothing could seem to wash away. He never wanted his father’s money or ‘assets’ in the first place but to threaten him into a successful lineage. He wrinkles his nose in disgust at the thought. Despite his pacing the anger continues to build into a spiteful energy, ready to throw something, to destroy anything.

He runs his hands over his face instead, forcing his brain to think through the situation. He and Watson, theoretically, could live without the help. They’ve plenty of revenue from private cases and they could take on more. Protection is never much of an issue as they’re both well trained in self defense. Realistically he could take the Brownstone from them but even then he’s certain Lin could get them a place for cheap until they’d managed to get their things together.

Yet the uneasiness doesn’t depart. To not have his father’s influence lingering over him like a twisted puppeteer is simultaneously freeing and threatening all the same. To cut off assets would be the first step, he fears the next ones may be more drastic should he not get his way. He’s a master manipulator and he will have his way one method or another.

He throws himself dramatically onto the couch, hoping that the new position will lend him some insight that he couldn’t see before. He hates to think how Watson might be dragged under by yet another one of his schemes. Honestly, she’s already threatened the man once at this point she may just kill him before anything happens.

He’s just entertaining the idea when he hears the door open and slam back shut again. His feet are draped over the back of the couch so it keeps him from falling when he lifts his head from the upside down position but he can’t get a better look at the subject of his thoughts who had just entered.

She throws down her keys and shucks off her coat with a loud huff. Turns out he’s not the only one having parental issues this afternoon. “I take it brunch with Mary was eventful.” He tries at a playful jab but she doesn’t seem to pick up on the tone.

“Why are you upside down? Please don’t tell me you have someone over. I just want to lie down.” He sits up this time, facing her with his knees folded into his chest. She does look truly frustrated.

“None of the sort.” He assures her. She relaxes a little coming into the room and taking a seat on the chair across from him. “Just got finished talking with a parent as well, actually.”

Worry settles into her features pushing her issues aside. “Why did your father call?”

“Just to remind me just how much control he holds. Classic villain monologue.” The sides of her mouth perk up in the shadow of a smile in that moment. He holds the moment of pride from easing her troubles just a bit. 

“So the usual?” The quip evokes a small chuckle from him and he nods.

“How was brunch?” The question is sincere this time, a genuine curiosity rather than halfhearted teasing. The exasperation returns once again and she unbuttons her suit jacket leaning back in the chair. She pushes her dark hair out of her face with a frown.

“It was good until she began asking about if I’d met anyone. When I said no I got a twenty minute lecture about how she’s going to die before I’m married. I thought she was finally over those talks after I turned thirty but apparently not.” His eyebrows furrow as he stares at her. 

“She wants you to marry someone?” She nods with a roll of her eyes. “Why don’t you?”

“As if it were ever that simple.” She sighs pushing herself to stand. “I’m making coffee, you want any?” He nods distractedly, caught up in his own thoughts once again.

What were the odds that he and Watson had the same issue today. His father couldn’t have possibly talked to Mary. That’d be absurd. However, the same problem might provide a simple solution for them. Not that Watson would agree to it, but he wonders if it might be worth an attempt.

He pushes himself off the couch moving toward the kitchen. He finds her there caring for Clyde in his terrarium. Her suit jacket has been abandoned, draped across the back of one of the chairs. In replacement her favorite red cardigan is draped over her shoulders, a stark contrast against her dress pants. She’s also taken her hair down from the tight updo she’d secured it in before she left this morning. Dark strands of ebony hair spill across her shoulders bouncing with each movement. She’s exquisite but it isn’t something he’d voice aloud. 

She seems to spot him out of the corner of the eye because her next words are to him, not the turtle. “Where’s his lunch? Did you pick it up?”

He hums in affirmation. “In the fridge, bottom drawer.” He watches her movements, the question just on the tip of his tongue. The scheme could prove to be an interesting experiment at the least. “Watson, if you’d allow me I’d like to propose an experiment.”

“You never ask permission before, what’s changed this time?” She cocks her hip turning to him with her head tilted.

“You’d be a key part of this experiment. I’m afraid your willing participation is the utmost necessary if I am to continue.”

“Okay go for it. What do you need me for?”

“Marry me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the second chapter of what’s building to be one of my favorite AU’s that I’ve written. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The air hangs tensely with his proposal. She blinks once, twice and then seemingly unphased nods towards the tortoise. “Well we do already have a child together.” The attempt at a joke breaks the mood for but a second before she meets his eyes. “You’re serious?”

“Quite.” He takes three strides to stand across from her. “Watson, it seems that we have the same issue with a common solution.”

“Is this about the call with your father?” To that he gives a jerky nod. He doesn’t meet her eye, rather fixing his gaze on a spot just over her shoulder.

“He’s cut us off. No monetary services, no knowledge into his operations, not even protection should it be necessary. If I’m being entirely honest, I’m not sure if the Brownstone is even off limits in his eyes. He wishes for me to prove that I won’t wake up and be the only Holmes left.” If he’s entirely honest, part of his father’s speech struck him. With Mycroft gone and his father being so advanced in age, the possibility of being the single Holmes left haunts him. He often drowns those moments with Watson. Her presence calms him, stabilizes him. She’s often the one thing that makes sense.

“That’s-” She scoffs shaking her head. “That’s actually probably on par for what we should expect from him, but how does that make us getting married a solution.”

“It simply postpones his attention until a more pressing matter comes along. An announcement of an engagement would be a simple distraction. We maintain our assets and my father is none the wiser.”

“You don’t think he’d want to know details about his son’s wedding?” He answers her with nothing more than furrowed eyebrows to which she nods again. “Fair enough. But my mother is exactly the opposite and will want to help out with proceedings.”

“That’s where we confess to Mary that we wish our engagement to remain a secret.” He smiles at her, having thought all of this through. However, her look of concern softens him. A desire to keep her happy rushes through him. “Watson, you know I’d never make you do anything. We will find another solution should you be against this idea.”

He sees the corner of her lips peak up in a smile. “I’m assuming you’ve already planned any response to questions they’d have.”

“We’ve been dating for two years, we kept it a secret due to our dangerous job, and I proposed to you after a dangerous case that led me to see that I did not want to spend another night without knowing that you are mine.” Her breath catches in her throat at the last line. “Effective?”

“Very.” She bites the inside of her cheek debating. “Fine, let’s do it.” His eyebrows shoot up, in all honesty he did not believe she’d agree to the circumstances. “But-” Ah, there it is. “We need to set some rules.” He nods in agreement allowing her to continue before he conjunctures with rules of his own. “Nobody in the precinct hears about this, not even Marcus or the captain.”

“I concur.”

“Should we let friends in on what’s happening? Mrs. Hudson? Emily?”

He gives it a thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Your mother will likely spread the news. The less people who have to pretend, the better.” She almost looks disappointed by the answer, but she appears to understand.

“We’ll need a ring. My mom would recognize anything I have so we’ll have to go looking.”

“No, that won’t do at all.” He shakes his head walking to the other room. He kneels in front of the fireplace pulling the loose bricks from the wall and retrieving the item he desires. He thinks briefly about what it would actually be like, getting on one knee for a woman he cares so deeply for. He swallows the lump that appeared so suddenly in his throat before pushing himself to a stance. Kneeling, offering it to her would make this all too real in his mind. Much too dangerous.

Rather he plops himself down onto the couch tapping the spot next to him, knowing Watson followed him into the room. Surely enough, she takes the spot beside him much more graceful than he. He opens the box presenting the ring to her just as he had all those years ago.

“Your mother’s ring.” Her eyes jump between his face and the ring, concern blossoming anew in her gaze. The last time he brought it out was when he told her how he’d learned of his mother’s addiction. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure.” The words hold an odd double meaning. “Father will see through the lie if not. This ring… he’ll have trouble holding any doubt.”

He takes her hand gently. His touch light enough that she can pull away at any second. He’s giving her a last chance out of this deal. Rather than pulling away, she follows the movements, flexing her fingers slightly so he could slide the ring on. He removes it from the box frightened that one wrong move will shatter everything he holds dear. Slowly the ring is placed on her finger. His heart stops for a second as it glides on as if always meant for her, as if it were hers all along. It was just locked away.

They sit in silence for a few moments. His legs are pressed against hers. They’re sitting so closely he can feel her breath brushing his face. He doesn’t dare speak. This closeness, it feels oddly wonderful, peaceful almost.

“My mother isn’t going to be fooled by how we act around each other right now.” Her words don’t break the tension, however. It feels like it grows stronger, holding them in this moment. He realizes his hand never left hers, holding on as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

“Sadly, neither will my father.” He agrees.

“We’ll need to act more comfortable physically with each other.” His thumb brushes against her skin in understanding. His movements are precise as he cups her face pulling her gaze from the ring to him again. He waits a beat. Waiting for her to stop him, to put a hand on his chest and walk away. When the moment doesn’t come he still doesn’t move. He feels her hands grab his arm, holding him to her, keeping him in this moment. It’s her touch that pushes him over the line.

His lips brush against hers twice before he commits. His heart hammers in his chest as she kisses him back. Her lips are soft and the smell of cardamom and honey overwhelm his senses threatening to lull his mind into a complete silence. He thinks for those moments, however brief the actual kiss was, he’s forgotten to breathe. She pulls away at the harsh trill of her cell phone. Like two teenagers caught by parents, they both jump to other ends of the couch. Her eyes remain on him, looking for answers to a world of questions. He’s afraid to admit he doesn’t know the answer. As air comes to his lungs once again he finds himself dizzy from the sensation.

With Watson frozen he answers the call. A short conversation with Bell over the status of a case ensues. Nothing special, not nearly stimulating enough to stop his mind from reeling over what happened. When he hangs up, Watson has gathered herself and now has a playful expression on her face.

“Effective?” He knows she’s referring to what happened and not the phone call. If he were not still trying to piece himself back together he likely would have chuckled at her call back to his words from earlier.

“Quite.” She smiles, a brilliant one that takes his breath away once more. “Come, we’re needed at the precinct. Our experiment must be put on pause for the moment.”

She falls into step with him as naturally as any other day. He notices she doesn’t take off the ring until they’re just outside the precinct. She slips it into a pocket on the inside of her jacket where it remains safe and on Sherlock’s mind for the rest of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho boy was getting to this point a struggle. I had very much intended on sending this chapter out at the beginning of December but when finals hit they hit HARD. I had the great misfortune of taking physics this semester and it was biting off a lot more that I could chew. I ended up having to abandon a lot of things that I wanted to do including getting this chapter finished and participating in Elementary month. I may still throw together some short prompts for that but I needed a long and restful break after finals. But I am back. No idea what I’m doing for the next chapter but that’s a beast for another day.
> 
> I’d also like to thank y’all for the massive amount of support for this story. I never would have imagined when mapping this concept out that people would respond so well. Hope y’all enjoy this update and again, thank you. Your kind words mean so much.

Sherlock wakes to the opposite end of his bed dipping violently. Falling asleep in a bed for him is a rarity, however, with a motorcycle settled in the place their couch once was, he had no choice but to retire to his bedroom once sleep threatened to claim him. He opens his eyes to find Watson wild eyed laying next to him. Her cheeks are flushed and chest heaving from effort to catch her breath.

He says nothing, allowing her to explain herself. “Mrs. Hudson let your father inside. They’re coming up the stairs right now.” Surely enough he can hear the amicable chatter of the other woman steadily approaching.

They’d been expecting his father for a week since he sent nothing more than a letter announcing their engagement. It would enrage him enough not to notice the convenient timing of the letter. Her mother, however, had yet to be informed. Hers will take much more planning as this one will be a face to face conversation. They spent the week preparing their story so absolutely no gaps or faults could be spotted and pointed out.

He nods to her, granting permission for whatever she had in mind. She pulls the sheet over herself settling herself next to him. She turns her back to the door allowing her head to rest on his chest. He places an arm over her noting how soft her cardigan feels. No wonder she wears it so much. Once again the smell of her washes over him, lulling him into an odd sense of calm he’s not quite used to. He relaxes into the hold savoring the small moments where they’re alone. Her breathing evens out and she closes her eyes as if she were sleeping all along.

He tracks them across the landing, first going to Watson’s room. He can hear Mrs. Hudson’s confusion at her being missing. She’d spied the ring once before, but said nothing. However, with Watson ‘resting’ on his bare chest, he’s certain she’s going to have enough questions that could rival what Mary could throw at them. 

He ponders for a moment why they went to Watson’s room first, was his father planning on seeing her instead? He tenses at the thought but it’s her hand resting on his ribcage that forces him to relax again. His father’s observations could rival his own on matters that he actually cared about. Any sign of discomfort could clue him into their little game.

A swift two knocks announces the presence not waiting before the door swings open. Mrs. Hudson throws an apologetic look, it wasn’t her who had opened it clearly. His father stops in his tracks when he spots the woman in the bed, if Mrs. Hudson is shocked she certainly doesn’t give anything away. Sherlock raises one eyebrow at the two of them challenging any questions to be asked.

“Meet me downstairs.” His father is curt, not caring much for pleasantries. As he walks away Mrs. Hudson mouths an apology before heading after him. Practiced intimacy helps with the weight of her against him. She’d fallen asleep on him only once after a case involving children, so exhausted that she dozed off in the car with her head on his shoulder. He wasn’t that good of a pillow then but it didn’t seem to bother her at the time. Her fake sleeping is so convincing that he momentarily regrets having to move from beneath her, lest he cause her to stir. It’s her head turning ever so slightly that reminds him of the truth, she’s tracking the movement downstairs using Mrs. Hudson’s voice.

“Think he bought it?” She murmurs opening one eye to look up at him.

“I believe so.” She drops her head letting out a breath of relief. “Ready to face the beast?”

“Not as such.” Her soft laugh rumbles against his chest pulling a smile across his lips. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

“We’ve gotten into worse. Wait until we face my mother.” He laughs allowing the short moment to calm him before he faces the monster awaiting just below them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Eventually he has to leave the comforts of the bedroom. Properly dressed he takes the stairs quickly, ready to tear the bandaid off. The quicker he can turn his father from his home, the better. He rounds the corner spying his father on the couch, a cup of tea in hand.

“Your help saw herself out.” Sherlock opens his mouth to correct him that Mrs. Hudson isn’t their ‘help’. His father doesn’t give him a chance however, rolling straight into the questioning. “Will Miss Watson be joining us?”

“She’s still getting ready. She’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“No need. I won’t be here long.” He places the glass on the table pushing aside the case file resting there. “She has your mother’s ring.”

“She does.”

“I was under the impression that the ring was lost over the years.” He rocks on his feet nodding at the statement.

“I found it while transforming the basement into Watson’s own office of sorts.” A lie, but a clever enough one that his father doesn’t push further.

“The ceremony?”

“Small. Watson’s family, her brother’s, Kitty and Archie. I imagine the captain and Detective Bell will be in attendance as well.” He doesn’t bother with an invitation towards him. It would likely be met with an announcement that he was busy and send a lackey in his place. “It is both of our wishes that it be kept a private event.” He can tell the statement bothers his father but the older man doesn’t push. He’d rather not imagine even his fake wedding be used as an excuse for his father to make contact with more criminals and those with questionable morals.

“Very well. The ceremony will be held at my estate.”

“No it shall not. Watson wishes to be married in the same place as her mother and step father. It holds significant meaning to her and I only wish to make her happy.” The lies roll too easily off his tongue. “You’re welcome to fund the wedding but as you can imagine, it’s not needed.”

“I see. Do keep in touch. I wish to hear more in the future but I have a meeting with a very powerful ally. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” The threat comes out softer than he expected. Convinced, even.

When Watson finally descends the steps he’s already gone. She seems relieved but concerned nonetheless. He guides her to the kitchen where he’s already preparing their coffee for the day, his hand brushing her lower back as he fills her in on the conversation.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Where the talk with his father went smoothly, Mary was the opposite. It was to be expected but both of them were uneased and exhausted by the seemingly relentless questioning. Their first date, when it became official, who knows of their relationship, how many dates there had been across the years, and more were tossed at them across the hour with both of them longing for a break and another coffee.

“Joan why don’t you go get us some coffee I wish to speak to Sherlock alone.” They flash each other a concerned glance at each other. This was far from what the two of them planned, but they’d have to honor her wish in order not to raise suspicion. He squeezes Watson’s hand nodding to her that it was okay. She’s still hesitant in leaving, eyes lingering on the two of them even as she goes up to the counter to place their orders.  
“Mary-” She places a hand up stopping him mid-sentence.

“Save it. You are hiding something.” Her jaw is set, accusatory. He swallows heavily letting out a sigh. “Why did you propose to my daughter? Joanie told me before how you hate marriage. I won’t be fooled by a simple death threat with the two of you. You’ve seen more than I care to remember.”

His heart sinks caught in the plan. He nods in submission. “Truthfully, I proposed because of my father.” The woman across from him lets out a disapproving noise that feels more painful than any scolding. No wonder Joan is so well put together. “He had a talk with me, not unlike the ones that I imagine you’ve had with your daughter. My brother recently passed and my father is not a young man. He said something that frightened me.” He sucks in a breath. “I don’t wish to be the only Holmes remaining.” He glances over at Watson ordering at the desk. Her hair is swept up and her suit coat unbuttoned. A relaxed polite smile graces her features as she speaks with the cashier. “Watson,” He catches himself using her last name still. “Joan, she’s the only one I’d ever trust to share that with. For so long I thought the name only brought with it death and pain. Yet she stayed and I still can’t piece together why.”

“Good.” Her simple response causes his head to snap towards her. “The ring?”

“My mother’s. It’s the one thing of hers that I managed to keep away from my father. It’s the only thing that felt right.”

“Grandchildren?”

“If Watson wishes I will give my life for the child just as I would for her.” A click of heels announces Watson’s presence again as she hands them each their coffee.

“Well now that the two of you are engaged Sherlock is going to have to start coming to our lunch dates.” The younger Watson shakes her head at the change in tone, shooting a look at him asking silently what he had said. He simply shrugs in response. “Have you told your brother yet?”

Beneath the table her hand slips into his, relief flooding over the both of them that thus far, their ruse was being bought. Not quite willing to look into the future at what challenge awaits them next.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well at least quarantine is good for one thing. It’s really kicked me in the ass to focus on my creativity again rather than allowing academics to crush me all the time. Like I’ve been making major progress on an artwork that I started back in January, baked a cake from scratch, AND finished this update. I am also looking to maybe possibly update The Lying Angel at some point. It’s gonna be a long quarantine so buckle up lads.

Throughout the night she could feel two pairs of eyes on her the entire time. The first were Sherlock’s, of course. His eyes never strayed far, studying the crowd among them every once in a while as faces cycled in and out of her vision all sharing the same words. Too many she doesn’t recognize, the few she could pinpoint were associates of Morland. He knows her sentiment, he’d more than an earful on the way there.

It had started with an envelope lying on their doorstep, the neat script of an invitation. The words are vague but with Morland’s signature at the bottom they’re not all too surprised. It was her mother’s call, however, that cleared the air real quick.

_ “Is there a dress code for tonight?” Her mother’s words catch her off guard as soon as she answers the phone. A familiar ache of dread spreads through her, could she be having a bad episode or worse did Watson herself forget their plans. _

_ “Tonight?” She echos, eyes meeting Sherlock’s as his head peaks up from the cold cases he was studying. He tilts his head in concern but she simply waves him off.  _

_ “Please tell me I didn’t get the dates mixed up. I basically forced your brother to cancel all his appointments tonight so that he could be there.” _

_ “Mom what are you talking about?” She huffs a little impatient. _

_ “Your engagement party of course.” Sherlock’s head snaps up this time, clearly listening in the entire time. He mouths a few words of panic which she returns in kind. “I know your step sister received one too because she gave me an earful over you not telling her about your engagement. Now I’ve never met Morland but your brother did look him up-” Her words drone off as the information clicks into place. _

_ Morland has set up an engagement party for them, without their notice. Anger courses through her entirely before her mother’s rather cross words come back to her once again. _

_ “Joan Watson, you are not missing out on your own engagement for a case do you hear me? The man or woman will still be dead tomorrow and I’m getting pictures.” She curses under her breath. _

_ “No mom, there’s no case.” Sherlock drops his head into his hands rubbing his eyes in frustration. “I’ve got to go. Sherlock is calling.” _

_ “You didn’t answer my question.” Watson tilts her head back trying to summon every ounce of patience she has. It’s not her mother’s fault they’re in this situation. Well, not entirely. _

_ “Wear your black dress that you wore to Oren’s wedding. Gotta go mom. Love you.” _

It’s a test, that much they’d figured out together. Sherlock supplements the gestures of a happily engaged couple: kissing her on the top of her head, guiding her to and fro with a hand placed on her lower back, whisperings in her ear which were just nonsensical facts in order to get a laugh out of her. 

None of which could distract her from the other set of eyes on her. Morland bounces from person to person using this moment as an excuse to further his own relationships with various shady figures.

“Joan!” A familiar voice brings a brief sense of relief. The faceless crowd parts for Lin to strut through arms wide for a hug. “This party is… wow. I mean I’ve been to some parties in my time but I’m pretty sure I just saw John O’Hara.”

“I’ll go get us some water.” Sherlock excuses himself. For a brief second she wants him to stay. While uneasy, his presence brought a sense of safety. A unity together in a crowd of unknown. 

“This better not be some undercover stunt because I canceled a really high profile meeting just to be here. Not that this won’t look great on instagram but it was a lot of zeros.”

“No it’s real.” She feels a touch of guilt for lying to Lin, part of her thinks that’s why she tried to leave her out of this. The excitement in her eyes as she spots the ring is a little too much to bear as rapid fire excited words spill from her step sister’s mouth. A mix of talk about a dress, maids of honor, all of it too overwhelming and too fast.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Dark lined eyes pop into her vision. “Is your car the dark mercedes parked on the side of the road? I think you’re about to get towed.”

“What?” Lin screeches. “We’re not done.” She states before running off as fast as she can without plowing over ten people in the process.

Kitty throws her a glance, it’s enough to tell her Kitty knows everything. Whether it be that she’d deduced it or Sherlock told her everything she couldn’t tell. At that moment she didn’t quite care either. “Had to come in and save you. Looked like you were about to pass out.” She flashes a crooked smile scanning the crowd. “Where’s the lucky man? Do I have to go to his rescue too.”

“Thank you.” Watson sighs with a fond roll of her eyes. She can’t say much, not here, but she’s thankful for her presence nonetheless. “I take it you got the invite.”

“Of course, wouldn’t miss mom and dad’s engagement for anything.” Watson flashes her a warning glare but doesn’t correct her. “I’m not going dress shopping with you.” She warns.

“Hopefully I’m not either.” She keeps her voice low, Kitty probably didn’t even hear her over the crowd and the music but Sherlock taught them both enough about reading lips that she catches the meaning.

“Well you better get moving before Lin realizes she’s not being towed and uses the march back to plan your bachelorette party.” She nods, the words immediately kicking her into gear.

There are very few moments in life where Watson wished for a drink, she’d sworn off most when she became a sober companion. However, her patience is razor thin at the moment and it’s just waiting on a tipping of the scale.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when a hand wraps around her arm pulling her towards the hallways and into an empty room. She doesn’t fight the movement, actually rather thankful for the few moments where she can drop the act.

It takes her a few more seconds than it should for her to connect that the face in front of her is no other than Hannah Gregson. She looks different out of her uniform, her hair curled over her shoulders and adorned in a red dress. Watson braces herself for yet another round of questioning.

“Do you want to explain why the hell my dad called me telling me to check on his two detectives on my one day off? Or why they’ve supposedly gotten engaged without telling my dad which I had to listen to him rant and rave about for an  _ hour.  _ Or the  _ next _ call from Bell asking if I could take his place and stake out an engagement party tonight. Did I mention it’s my day off?”

It takes Watson only a few seconds to piece together a story. “We’re investigating Morland.”

“Sherlock’s dad?” Her spine straightens, the frustration sliding off her features and the professionalism of an aspiring detective taking over. “What are you two into?”

“He took over Moriarty’s empire after she stepped down. It  _ was  _ a method to protect us. Sherlock thinks he’s gotten in too deep. He didn’t trust his father before but now it’s worse than ever. He thinks he might be operating for bad people.”

“Do you trust him?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out. We set up the engagement story to get into his element. Let him think that we had no idea that he’d do all of this.” She gestures to the party just outside the doors. “Let him control the invites which is why Bell and Gregson got some. If it were up to me or Sherlock they’d be left out of this.”

“Kitty too?”

“Yes.” She casts a glance toward the door hoping with all of her power that he wasn’t standing right behind the door listening. She may have lost him in the crowd when she was trying to get lost herself. Just as the thought crosses her mind she watches a shadow approach and linger, blocking the tight beneath the doorway. “Tell Tommy and Marcus we’re both sorry. We wanted to tell them about the engagement sooner but everything’s been happening so fast. Sherlock wanted to keep it secret but now.” She gives off a half chuckle casting her eyes to the door so that Hannah can catch up to what she’s observed.

_ Morland? _ She mouths the words, not even giving Watson time to nod before she continues the conversation. “Fine but you’re getting me another day off. I’m not the consultant babysitting service.”

“Thank you Hannah.”

She lingers rocking on her feet for a second. “Am I supposed to say congratulations or?” Watson lets out a forced laugh shaking her head. A swift knock interrupts her response, Hannah’s face falls into the veneer of perfect calm.

“There you are Ms. Watson.” Morland greets with a smile.

“Congratulations Joan.” Hannah offers a smile before nodding to Morland excusing herself out of the conversation. She watches as the younger woman leaves closing the door behind herself with only a slight hesitation.

“How are you enjoying the party?” The question feels like a trap in itself. He knows exactly how she’s been faring. He’s had watch on her all night, be it himself or his lackies. Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d planned it all along to separate her and Sherlock so they could speak alone.

“What do you want?” The question comes off colder than intended but her patience has wasted away. All of this: the people, the chatter, the monotonous orchestral music constantly playing; she can see how Sherlock needed to get as far from it as possible.

“Is it not enough to try to make my son happy?” She rolls her eyes moving to step past him but he steps in her way instead. “We are celebrating, are we not?”

“This is not celebrating.” She counters with a raise of an eyebrow. “This is business.” While the crowd blended together she knew the types; wall streets, politicians, CEOs. All the types that send her and Sherlock’s skin crawling and the furthest from their choice of company.

“Nonsense, my son was engaged.”

“Is.” She corrects narrowing her eyes, “And Sherlock spoke with you before and made our wishes more than clear. We are not pawns to be used in your game. We wanted to keep this private and instead you announced it to our family without giving us time to do so ourselves.”

“I was under the impression that you already had told your mother.” He shakes his head with an ‘apologetic’ sigh. “I’m only trying to do what’s best for him.”

“What’s best for him?” She scoffs. “He’s a recovering addict and you’ve filled this place with alcohol and at least 22 people who are high and that’s only the ones visibly so. How is that what’s best for him?” She stops taking a steadying breath. “We’re leaving. You can keep your money, keep your protection, hell, keep the Brownstone. I want you out of his life.”

“You cannot keep him from me, he is my son.” The threat sends a chill down her spine but it’s not enough to sway her.

“He may be your son but he is my partner. Now move.” Truth be told in her head she’s hoping he doesn’t, for a moment she lets her mind linger on the image. He steps to the side allowing her to walk past.

“Does he know he’s not my only son you’ve slept with?” His words stop her dead in place. She spins slowly taking in his self satisfied smile. Before she can think better of it the sound of the slap resonates through the small room. She turns to retreat again only to find herself face to face with Sherlock.

His eyes are darker than she saw after Michael Rowan attacked her in their home, holding a barely contained anger vibrating just beneath the surface of his skin. He takes a step toward his father but she places her hands on his chest. 

“Please, take me home.” Her voice tremors, her actions settling in on her. His face softens as he looks down at her. His hand takes hers, the skin still stinging from the impact of the slap. Wordlessly he guides her out, shielding her from curious onlookers and concerned family alike. Later he would send a message to Mary and Lin both explaining what had happened, probably Kitty as well. For now, however, his main concern is the woman trembling in his arms.

It’s not until the cold winter air hits her face that the tears start sliding down her face. Guilt weighs heavily on her shoulders. They’d built up this story, this lie, to keep their home but she had to blow it all up. She gave Morland exactly what he wanted.

“Watson.” She doesn’t look up at him. She doesn’t ask how much of that he’d heard. Truth be told he’d probably been lingering since Hannah pulled her aside.

“He doesn’t know.” The words come out so raw that it hurts. “He can’t throw that in my face when he doesn’t  _ know _ .” Sleeping with Mycroft was a mistake, yes. She came to terms with the fact that she couldn’t take it back long ago. However, he was kind to her. He felt like the first person other than Gregson and Bell united with her to protect Sherlock. Someone who’d do anything for him. When he died it- “He doesn’t know.”

“I do.” Sherlock whispers pulling her into an embrace. “Thank you Watson.” He places a kiss on the top of her head as her carefully pieced together front crumples.

As she mutters apologies into his jacket he only pulls her closer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration strikes out of nowhere but here we are! Honestly I got this idea while on a trip a while back. It’s been sitting in my head for a minute but FINALLY the ideas started flowing. Once I get conversations in my head THEN I know it’s time to begin writing. Honestly, getting inspiration for this was rough recently because I have a new fic idea that absolutely will not leave my head. I was trying to force myself to think for this one instead so I could finish a work first but that’s literally the worst idea when you’re trying to write something. Once I stopped pressuring myself, BOOM, idea. I also had to watch an episode to get their voices straight in my head again but that’s another story. Hope y’all are staying safe!

Watson settles into her seat eyes piercing the suspect across from her. The woman is eerily familiar to her, a pompous air that resonates from her very being. An attitude calling that she can’t be caught.

The case is a rough one, triple homicide with no solid evidence. Even what they managed to obtain from witnesses is circumstantial at best. The woman knows that without a confession, she’d slide by in court. Enough money for a good lawyer and an alibi that she didn’t trust. She’d been at this for an hour and she’s growing weary. There’s absolutely no security footage of her where she claimed to be. It simply doesn’t make sense.

A scream cuts her question short. She leaps up into action, medical instincts taking over as people outside the door call for 911. She grabs the door handle only for it to remain still in her hand. She tries again and again only for the realization to dawn on her that she’s locked inside. “Sherlock?” She calls to her partner who should be just on the other side of the mirror. “Sherlock let me out so I can help!” Her heart sinks when there’s no response. “Marcus?” Again, nothing. “Abreu? Coventry?” Nobody’s on the other side. Great.

She pounds on the door hoping to catch somebody’s attention. “Someone! Let me out! I can help!” She shouts. A chuckle behind her sends a chill down her spine. Her eyes flash back to the woman in the handcuffs, Elana March sits where the woman once was. A wicked grin spreads across her face.

Action settles into her as she pulls out the keychain Kitty gifted her for her birthday. She presses the blunt end against the two way mirror turning her head as the spike inside shatters the glass. She hoists herself through the new opening, adrenaline rushing too fast to feel the glass likely piercing her palms. She reaches for the door only for it to stubbornly stay in place yet again. She looks through the window in the door hoping to catch anyone passing, even in a rush to assist but what catches her eyes sends her into full blown panic.

Two cups of coffee spill across the precinct floor. Marcus is leaning over an all to familiar form giving manic chest compressions. “Sherlock!” All sense leaves her as she slams her shoulder into the door, trying desperately to force it to swing open. “Sherlock!” She cries his name, tears spilling down her cheeks. A scream rips through her when Marcus sits back on his feet, grief consuming his expression.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She shoots out of bed with a strangled gasp desperately trying to catch her breath. It takes her mind a second to catch up to her surroundings. A shadow passes across her room and her body moves unconsciously fetching her singlestick from her bedside drawer. She’s not quick enough, however, as the looming figure catches her wrist midswing.

“Watson!” Sherlock shouts, snapping her out of her state. He sits on her bed in front of her, worry etched into his face. She disguards her singlestick flicking on her lamp.

Her chest is still heaving from adrenaline as she tries to piece together what happened. “Why are you in here?” His brows furrow, confused.

“You were screaming my name.” His knees bounce trying to rid of the remaining anxiety in his own way. “I thought you were in danger.”

Her eyes close in both embarrassment and realization. Her nightmares had been recurrent since that night she stood up to Morland. They all ended the same with someone she cared about dead by the hands of someone she and/or Sherlock helped put away. This one, however, was the worst of the bunch. “You’re hurt.” His right hand is held close to him but she can tell he’s bleeding.

“I was doing an experiment when I heard you scream. I wasn’t careful getting out of it but it’s fine. Merely a scratch.”

“Let me look at it.”

“Watson.” He tries to bat her off again but she only looks at him. A look that tells him that she needs this right now. He obediently follows her to the bathroom for supplies and better lighting.

Once in there she determines that he is correct. It’s a painful cut but stitches are not necessary, thankfully. An apology is on the edge of her tongue when he speaks up instead. 

“What was the dream about?” She tenses not wishing to explain. Not when she’s had so many in the course of two weeks. He’d understand, of course he’d understand. The answer is simple.

“Make sure you wash this so it doesn’t get infected. I’ll go clean up the mess from the experiment.”

He catches her wrist as she tries to walk away. His grip is more gentle than before, his eyes begging her to talk to him. “Joan.” Her name makes her breath catch and for a moment, she wants to tell him everything. How she’s been extra on edge since Morland’s threat to remove his ‘extra security’ if there ever even was such a thing. It did its job, however, as she always brings her singlestick on cases now. She wants to tell him about how she’s worried he’ll take their whole livelihood away in one fell swoop. She knows he supports what she said that night, yet parts of her wish she could just take it back. Taking it back, however, would mean not standing up for Sherlock and that’s absolutely not an option.

“I’m fine.” She insists instead. It’s easier than explaining what he already probably knows.

He doesn’t push, thankfully. He only nods slightly with a sad smile. “Very well. I’ll clean up my mess. You get some rest, we have lunch with your family tomorrow, remember?”

“My mother won’t let me forget.” She jokes halfheartedly. He relaxes slightly at the return of the banter and it’s enough for now. She sulks back to her room hoping to reach a point where she’s tired enough to fall in a dreamless sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherlock keeps his eyes on her the next day. The rest of the night he’d kept quiet, listening for even the slightest cry. When none came he assumed she’d managed to fall into a peaceful sleep and resumed his experiment. However, when she came down the steps ready for lunch it’s more than clear to him that she hadn’t slept any more at all.

He makes no mention of it, only making her a cup of coffee before they set out which she gratefully accepted. She hides her exhaustion well with others but he’s more than familiar with it by now. With his habits of waking her up early he’s recognized her patterns at different levels of needing sleep. He tries to curb his concern when she drags her feet across the kitchen floor. He bites his tongue when she catches herself going to rub her eyes for the third time only stopping to not ruin her makeup concealing the dark circles under her eyes. He rocks when he has to repeat himself several times when she misses something he says about the experiment he’d conducted the night prior. She’s far too tired, is what he concludes. A type of tired where if they had a case he’d wait another hour before waking her lest he be on the wrong end of a snap in her exhaustion.

“You ready?” Her head lifts following the sound of his voice. He wishes he could give her more time for her coffee to kick in but they’re behind as is.

“Remind me why we scheduled this again? As if that brunch with my mother was bad enough now we have to answer to Oren, Grace, and Lin?”

“Come to recall I don’t believe Lin gave us a choice in the matter.”

“Right.” She chuckles dryly. “Let’s go.”

The ride to the restaurant is blissfully long. It gives Watson the time she needs to wake and him time to think. Not that he hadn’t done it all night but paired with the opportunity to observe Watson, it’s beneficial at least. She no longer seems shaken by the events of the night prior, also not shocking as Watson in the past has pushed back emotions for the lack of confrontation. 

Everyone is already seated when they arrive at the restaurant. Sherlock places a hand at the base of Watson’s back for the appearance but stays back when she goes in to hug her family. He waves politely pulling out Watson’s seat before taking his own.

Conversation flows naturally with the Watson family, all things given. She seems to forget her exhaustion as they discuss how they’ve all been recently, though she does order a coffee with her meal.

“I can’t believe I had to find out about your engagement through mom.” Oren laughs. Watson shifts in her seat a little only offering an apologetic smile.

“At least you found out through someone.” Lin challenges, “I found out via the engagement party invitation.”

“And she will never let me hear the end of it.” Watson shrugs. “Truthfully we were going to keep it a secret for the sake of professionalism and the danger in our jobs.”

Lin gasps, a realization hitting her. “Did you never tell Marcus?”

“No, we didn’t.” Sherlock provides biting the inside of his cheek.

“He’s going to flip when he hears about it. I mean, the whole precinct had a pool deciding when you two were going to get together but engaged?”

“They had a what?” Watson sits up a little straighter, “How do you know about this?”

“I’m the confirmation for when you two finally get together.” He and Watson both share a look of alarm.

“Did you tell anyone?” He asks, Watson’s hand grabs his leg under the table. He’s not sure if he’s grounding her or the other way around. The entire precinct knowing about their ‘engagement’ would complicate things in unimaginable ways. They’d already lied to Hannah at the gala. If that were to get out they’d be dealing with more than minor knowing looks from coworkers but actual anger and hurt from Bell and Gregson both. Dealing with wedding questions from family was bad enough. In the workplace? Sherlock can only grab her wrist in return in order to keep himself from spiraling.

“Of course not. I got Joan’s message loud and clear that I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. Nobody has even asked recently so you’re off the hook.”

They both breathe a sigh of relief. He lets her go but Watson’s hand remains, though relaxing her grip. He’s caught by how natural the position feels. Simply holding each other was an action he’d never thought he’d find so comforting yet her hand just above his knee curbs his anxieties he’d been feeling having to pretend. They’re partners, afterall, how much pretending did they really need?

The rest of lunch is unremarkable at best. Discussion of wedding ideas fended off with excuses over how busy they’ve been with work. Lin threatened to plan for them and for a moment it didn’t sound like a horrible idea until he thought of how long that guest list would be.

He shakes his head when that thought truly settled in. How long had he been thinking like this engagement was real? Thoughts of actual weddings and Watson going dress shopping as if that weren’t something Mary and the whole Watson clan in general wouldn’t want to be involved with.

“I think I broke him.” Lin teases gently. He’s more than used to her at this point but he’s certainly overwhelmed. Watson squeezes his knee pulling his gaze to her.

“It’s ok.” She coaxes with a smile that could calm him instantly, “We’ll figure it out.” He offers her a small smile, if only she knew what he was trying to figure out.

When they say their goodbyes his hand reaches for Watson’s, his fingers interlacing with hers as they make their way to the car. Even as the climb in the back of a cab his hand covers hers in the drive finding the comfort he yearns for in the simple touch. He didn’t realize how badly he needed it until she climbed out when they arrived home and her touch was gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He almost forgets about Watson’s nightmare in the panic that gripped his mind for the rest of the night. It’s not until Watson lingers in his doorway, her face more vulnerable than she lets most view her as, that he remembers the encounter. She schools her emotions so well most days.

“Any new cases?” Her voice sounds pleading and tired.

“I thought you’d be reading your book right now.”

“I finished it last night.” She admits with a sigh.

“Unfortunately nothing. It appears all the interesting murders have taken a holiday.” He jests, “I’d say let's take a trip to New York City but I believe they’re not quite keen on having me back any time soon.”

“Well you did lick what they thought was a deadly poison and made an officer faint.”

“Anyone with a sense of smell knew that it was italian dressing Watson.” She looks away when he meets her gaze. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.”

“Clearly not.” She shifts her weight from left to right and back again.

“You died.” He rears back, almost shocked that she relented so easily. “I was stuck in interrogation with a suspect and I heard screaming. I was locked inside and I couldn’t get out. I saw you on the ground. Marcus just stopped trying to save you. Nobody could hear me and I could’ve helped, I know I could but.” He’s up easily and in two steps he’s wrapped his arms around her. Her hands freeze in the air but when he holds her tighter she relents trembling in his arms like he could make it all stop.

“It’s alright.” He whispers into her hair. “I’m ok.” He feels her nod into his shoulder. He’s more than familiar with these nightmares, however. No amount of words can shake that uneasiness they bring. “Was this the only one?”

Her silence is enough of an answer as is.

“Only me?”

She tightens her grip but he can feel the just barely there shake of her head. “We saw your family today. They’re happy, if a tad relentless in pushing us to plan our fake wedding.” He feels her shoulders shake: a laugh, that’s good. “Kitty and Archie are likely cuddled up together after watching a Disney movie that Kitty pretends not to like but we both know she’s a secret softie hm?” A nod. “As for me. Well, you can stay in my bed if you’d like that way I’m right here if you need me.”

She stiffens and for a moment he believes he’s gone too far. She lets out an agonizingly long breath contemplating his offer. She swallows heavily, nodding more distinctly this time. It’s slow, almost giving herself the opportunity to change her mind. He guides her to the bed laying down first, controlling his breathing tightly so as to not make the smallest move that could scare her off.

She looks so small as she crawls in beside him. This woman that he associates with so much strength looking so vulnerable in this moment. He wishes he could take her pain on as his own. He’d do it in a second if he could. He opens an arm making the silent offer to her. A small smile that he hopes tells her if she doesn’t need it she doesn’t have to take it.

He has to force himself not to stop breathing when her head settles on his bare chest where she can listen to his racing heart. Her hand comes to rest on the base of his ribs content to just feel like slight expansion and contraction of his breathing. His own hand settles on her back, content to spell out meaningless formulas and ludicrous patterns until she’s lulled into a deep restful sleep.

He listens to her slow even breaths as his eyes drift closed.


End file.
